<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Ruddigore; or, The Spinster's Curse by missdibley</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24290434">Ruddigore; or, The Spinster's Curse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley'>missdibley</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Red Nose Diaries [119]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>British Actor RPF, Ruddigore - Sullivan/Gilbert, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cornwall, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Ruddygore, cornish coast, rederring, ruddigore - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:00:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24290434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Zawe go to a wedding together, but not as a couple (despite her best efforts). A fictional fishing village on the Cornish coast is a perfect setting for a wedding and possibly some magical realism shenanigans involving a curse, professional bridesmaids, and everybody's favorite chubby Filipina-American OFC.</p><p>Set in an alternate timeline to spring 2019, after Betrayal in London but before Betrayal NYC.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character, Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character Of Color, Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s) of Color</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Red Nose Diaries [119]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/260365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Rederring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took about as long to take the train, but as Zawe had not one but three garment bags (three frocks for the rehearsal dinner, ceremony, and reception/afters — “We want to make sure the pictures come out alright, yeah?”) and <a href="https://www.everlane.com/products/mens-weekender-black-black-leather?collection=mens-backpacks-bags">an oversized Everlane duffel</a> stuffed with striped shirts and cropped jeans and four pairs of shoes), Tom graciously offered to drive to Cornwall instead.</p><p>Bobby, being spoiled, found himself offloaded into the backseat with the aforementioned Everlane duffel which he found made for a cozy bed. That is, until Zawe noticed him napping upon it during a rest stop and not so gently urged him away from it.</p><p>Having been insulted so, the spaniel found solace in a brief walk with Tom, away from the hordes of weekend road trippers who were overloading on snacks at the Little Waitrose where Zawe took selfies with the meal deals to post to her Instagram with hashtags like #ecofriendly and #budgettravel and #minibreak.</p><p>They weren’t even a couple, Tom and Zawe, but when a mutual friend gets married, it makes sense to share the cost of a road trip to the charming fishing village where the ceremony is set. Never mind that it might have been more #ecofriendly to take the train like some of the other guests. Bobby enjoyed train rides,  and it had been a while since Tom had travel the country with his mates, slinging back tinned G &amp; T’s while playing multiple rounds of euchre and bridge.</p><p>“Yoo hoo!” Zawe called from the passenger side of his sedan, smiling brightly whilst holding a plastic carrier bag. “Shall we get back on the road?”</p><p>Bobby had already marked the little area twice, so Tom supposed they should. He put his game face back on as he and Bobby walked back to the car, and got settled in. But when Zawe put her bare feet on the dashboard, a silver toe ring winking at him in the sunlight, he gritted his teeth, put the car into drive, and sped out of the oasis.</p>
<hr/><p>Zawe left Tom to bring in the bags when they arrived at <a href="https://www.foweyhallhotel.co.uk/">The Fowey Hall Hotel</a>, insisting that she had to get pictures of the manor during the so-called “golden hour” and “Besides, you’ve just got that one bag, anyway.” She snapped, and Tom just managed to prevent Bobby from lifting a leg above one of Zawe’s garment bags. After six hours of being trapped in the car with Zawe, who didn’t stop moving talking humming singing joking flirting (badly at that last one), Tom didn’t mind taking the bags in because it meant that they were no longer on the road.</p><p>The hotel lobby was full of children, ranging in age from 18 months to 18 years. Those who had smartphones or tablets lounged all over the place, while those without cried because they had none. Bobby whimpered to be let up when one boisterous looking girl of three with a perfectly round head and little blue marble-like eyes instantly screamed “DODDIE” and made for Bobby. Tom scooped the dog up, stepped up to the registration desk, and presented his credit card and driving license.</p><p>The manager who checked him in, a short Asian woman with a no nonsense look about her that Tom couldn’t help but find consoling, frowned at the computer.</p><p>“My apologies, Mr. Hiddleston, but your reservation isn’t coming up.” She spoke in a lilting, musical sort of way, with a faint accent that Tom couldn’t place.</p><p>“Oh?” Tom shifted when Zawe joined him at the desk. “I made it two months ago. Does that help?”</p><p>“I cancelled it,” Zawe announced. She ran her left hand through her hair and did her best to look winsome. “I thought we could share!”</p><p><em> We </em> ?, Tom wondered to himself. Also: “You cancelled <em> my </em> hotel room?”</p><p>Zawe looked uncertain, her brow wrinkling just for a moment. “It was just a waste, for us to have separate rooms…”</p><p><em> Us? </em>, Tom wondered again.</p><p>“Ashton,” Zawe said to the manager behind the desk.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” The manager nodded. “Three nights in one of our Deluxe Doubles.”</p><p>“I don’t suppose you…” Tom began to say.</p><p>“Sorry, sir,” replied the manager. “No vacancies, on account of the wedding.”</p><p>“Well that settles it!” Zawe cried. “We shall Deluxe Double it up!” She tried to lean into Tom and nuzzle Bobby, who promptly turned inwards and tried to hide inside Tom’s jacket</p><p>Tom stepped back. “No,” he said. He sounded short and abrupt and not a little bit crowded in and just plain bothered. He peered at the manager. “Any other hotels in town that you could direct me to?”</p><p>The manager nodded, and pointed to a wing chair just to the side. It was hidden by a plum velvet curtain, the perfect place to sit and stew.</p>
<hr/><p>Tom wasn’t a total dick. And maybe he was a bit of a pushover, letting Zawe keep the room and helping her with her bags. Accepting her paltry apology, but refusing her invitation to stay. While it was true that they had a little something during the run of the play, it was over, and had been over for some time. Zawe was a nice enough girl but she was also somehow the worst person in the world. Which was somehow Tom’s type. Self-involved but not self-aware.</p><p>“Oh, hello,” he heard someone coo.</p><p>Bobby, who had been napping under the chair while they waited, stretched and yawned and wiggled then presented himself for adoration by this someone who had a lilting voice much like the manager at the desk.</p><p>Tom looked up from his seat to find a woman cuddling his dog. Her hair was black and frizzy, haphazardly put up in a bun that was on the verge of falling apart. She came up to Tom’s shoulders when he finally uncurled himself from the wing chair to stand beside her.</p><p>“So my mom tells me we need to find you a room?”</p><p>“Me or the dog?” Tom couldn’t help asking.</p><p>The woman looked up at Tom. Dark sparkling eyes, round rosy cheeks, and tiny rosebud lips that tugged up in a grin. A sort of olive complexion and freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. </p><p>“The dog, I think,” she replied, in the sort of forthright way that Americans had. “Mom said the lady in 203 is quite keen to have you as a guest.”</p><p>“Do you and your mother always gossip about the guests like that?’</p><p>“It’s not gossip, it’s guest relations.” The woman nodded at the front door of the manor. “You parked out there?</p><p>Tom nodded.</p><p>“You mind going for a short drive?”</p><p>Tom shrugged. “Depends where we’re headed, I reckon.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” the woman allowed. “But you look like you need a shower, and this one.” She cuddled Bobby again. “Needs a snack.”</p><p>“I could use a snack, too.” Tom said.</p><p>“That makes three of us then.” She smiled, then nodded at the door again. “Follow me, please.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. "When thoroughly tired of being admired"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Newly arrived in the Cornish village of Fowey for a wedding, Tom gets his bearings and makes a new friend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> When thoroughly tired of being admired,<br/></em> <em> By ladies of gentle degree (degree),<br/></em> <em> With flattery sated,<br/></em> <em> High-flown and inflated,<br/></em> <em> Away from the city we flee – we flee!<br/></em> <em> From charms intramural to prettiness rural the sudden transition is simply Elysian,<br/></em> <em> So come, Amaryllis,<br/></em> <em> Come, Chloe and Phyllis,<br/></em> <em> Your slaves, for the moment, are we!<br/></em> <em> Your slaves, for the moment, are we!<br/></em>("Welcome, gentry, " W.S. Gilbert")</p><hr/><p>As soon as Tom and Carmen got into his car, with Bobby curled up in the back seat, Tom had an idea.</p><p>He thought, <em> Why don’t I just drive down to the beach so Bobby can zoom about and we can eat 99s and then I’ll blow off the rest of the weekend so instead of attending this wedding for a couple I do like but with a lady I don’t actually fancy I can just curl up in a Cornish cottage for a great deal of shagging (with the occasional break for a pasty)? </em></p><p>This idea was entirely contained in Tom’s head but of course he made the mistake of looking at Carmen during the “great deal of shagging” bit and at that precise moment she turned to look at him and, almost as if she could read his mind, she smiled.</p><p>“Again, sorry about the mix-up with your reservation,” Carmen said.</p><p>Tom shook his head. “Not your fault my, erm, friend cancelled it without my knowledge.”</p><p>“How good a friend is she if she cancelled your reservation without your knowledge or approval?” Carmen’s mouth snapped shut, almost as if she realized this question was going over the line.</p><p>Tom, upon seeing her cheeks turn adorably pink, allowed himself a grin. “So tell me about this room.”</p><p>“The room is more of a one-person cottage, half of a bed and breakfast that actually came with the hotel.” Carmen nodded ahead. “Just follow the signs directing you to the ferry landing. It’s not far.”</p><p>They could have made the walk in less than ten minutes, but with Tom’s bag and the dog, it was better in the long run to drive. His car wasn’t large, exactly, but it wasn’t made for navigating the narrow cobblestone streets of the village. He took it slow, listening to Carmen give an informal tour of the town.</p><p>Bobby, who had charmed his way to the comfort of Carmen’s lap in the front passenger seat, nosed at the sea air that blew in through her open window. Tom found the air refreshing as well.</p><p>“That’s the chemist — they close at 7pm during the week, but on weekends they’ll stay open until 10. There’s a Boots just outside town, with a Tesco, and some other chains. But here in the village, we’re all local and quaint as fuck.” Carmen chuckled when Tom shot her a look.</p><p>“Is that an American turn of phrase?”</p><p>Carmen nodded. “I try to limit myself to one per week.”</p><p>“Good girl.” Tom had meant it to sound light, breezy. Instead he practically purred it. It was meant to be innocent, but:</p><ol>
<li>Carmen was very pretty.</li>
<li>Tom was off his game (because he hadn’t gotten laid in a while).</li>
<li>That damn sea air was capable of stirring up many things.</li>
</ol><p>Carmen, to her credit, made no visible reaction. She merely shifted ever so slightly in her seat, and pretended that the sound of Tom Hiddleston (who she recognized as a celebrity, she wasn’t an idiot, and instantly realized was much taller skinnier hotter in person than paparazzi shots have led her to believe) purring <em> “Good girl” </em> six inches from her ear hadn’t made her wetter than, well, a Cornish fishing village in May.</p><p>Because, of course, the clouds opened up, and rain burst forth. Tourists who had been eating ice cream and strolling down to the docks instead sought shelter in the pubs or the tea rooms or their hotels. </p><p>“Almost there,” Carmen said, pointing through the window to the ferry landing just ahead. Fifty yards behind that was a black and white enamel sign that read PRIVATE DRIVE.</p><p>The drive was gravel, and there was something soothing about the sound of it crunching under the tires as they drove up. There was a covered parking spot attached next to a white stone cottage with a slate gray peaked roof. A side door enabled them to enter the cottage without having the chance running through the rain to the front.</p><p>“Erm...” Tom began to say.</p><p>“What?” Carmen had set Bobby down and given him some water in an enamel bowl.</p><p>“Are we...?” Tom looked around the kitchen in which they stood. There were some unwashed dishes in the sink, and a pile of mail on the counter next to it. An unopened though empty suitcase lay open on the kitchen table, and there was an empty pizza box balanced on top of the recycling bin. “Is there somebody else here?”</p><p>“Me.” Carmen nodded. “I live here.”</p><p>“And where is the...”</p><p>“Your room?” Carmen nodded. “Follow me.”</p><p>Through the doorway to a small lounge. There was a window seat, though the view was just of the trees that concealed the cottage from view. Tom could see, just to the left, the gravel drive. But perpendicular to that was a single wall of bookshelves. Proper ones, made of heavy dark wood, and library lights built into the top. Stuffed with books of all shapes and sizes, save for a single row to the right that contained framed photographs.</p><p>“Stand back, please.” Carmen pressed down on the third row in the middle shelf in the wall, there was a clicking sound, and all of a sudden the shelf swung forward because of course it wasn’t just a bookshelf it was a door. And behind that door was another door, a proper one with a brass keyhole in its center. Carmen produced a key, fitted it into the keyhole, and with a twist let Tom into his accommodation. </p><p>They now stood in a mirror image of the lounge in Carmen’s half of the cottage, only the view was of the village of Fowey itself. She pointed out the kitchen, which was tidier than hers, and had a screened in porch with a few comfy chairs for reading. It was lovely.</p><p>Seaside cottages aren’t exactly known for their spaciousness, but it’s not like Tom was missing the expansive grandeur of Fowey Hall. Not when he noticed that the stairs up to the second floor were only slightly wider than Carmen’s hips. Or that while the bathroom was similarly tiny it featured an almost comically large clawfoot bathtub. Sure, he had to duck his head when stepping through the bedroom door, but the bed was big enough.</p><p>Big enough for two.</p><p>Carmen stood just outside the bedroom door, watching as Tom set down his bag and removed his jacket. The rain had made his hair curlier, and when he ran his fingers through it, she did so too. He noticed the gesture, and they laughed.</p><p>“My hair tends to frizz,” she explained.</p><p>“So does mine,” Tom replied.</p><p>Carmen realized she was squeezing the key, and fumbled with it a little before handing it to Tom. “Here,” she said. “It works for the front door as well.”</p><p>“But don’t you need it?”</p><p>Carmen shook her head. “I just need the side door for my half.”</p><p>Tom nodded. He bit his lip, focused his eyes, and considered.</p><p>“So if I need anything?”</p><p>“I’m right next door.” Carmen knocked on the shared wall for emphasis.</p><p>“Great.”</p><p>“Anything else?”</p><p>“How are you American?”</p><p>“I was born there.”</p><p>“But how did you end up here?”</p><p>“My mom married my stepfather when I was in college in Chicago. I started spending summers here a few years ago after he died.”</p><p>“Who was your late stepfather?”</p><p>“Despard Murgatroyd.”</p><p>“That sounds like something out of Gilbert &amp; Sullivan.”</p><p>“I know, right?”</p><p>“But who was he?”</p><p>“My stepfather.”</p><p>“Is that all?”</p><p>“He was also the twenty-first baronet of Ruddigore.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“There’s a Ruddigore Castle not far from here. My stepbrother Roderic, the twenty-second baronet, lives there with his family.”</p><p>“And Fowey Hall?”</p><p>“It was my mother’s wedding gift,” Carmen said, with a curious smile. “She’s not one for jewelry so he bought it for them to run together.”</p><p>“That’s sweet.”</p><p>“He was a sweet guy,” Carmen said. “A sweet, deeply weird guy.”</p><p>Tom smiled. “I bet.”</p><p>“So is it my turn now?” Carmen said.</p><p>“Fair’s fair,” Tom said. “Shoot.”</p><p>“Was that your girlfriend who checked in?”</p><p>Tom shook his head.</p><p>“Are you a groomsman in the wedding that’s booked in for the weekend?”</p><p>“No,” Tom said. “Just good friends with the happy couple.”</p><p>“Do you usually come to Cornish fishing villages with the intention of seducing local village girls?”</p><p>Tom smiled. A genuine lovely smile.</p><p>“No,” he said. “Not usually.”</p><p>“But...” Carmen said.</p><p>“For you,” Tom said, taking her hand and pulling her to him. He settled his arms around her shoulders and took in her sparkling eyes, her rosy cheeks, and mischievous smile. “I would be happy to make an exception.”</p><p>They kissed.</p><p>He definitely kissed her first. He had gravity on his side, and his big handsome head which fell forward at just the right time and just the right speed and with just the right pressure to press his lips to hers. A breath, and then his tongue was licking just inside her tender lips. A shift, and then his hands were in her hair. Carmen’s hands moved to his hips, slipping just inside the waist of his jeans because she needed to hold him. Feel his bare flesh, dig her nails into his skin and leave little crescents. She gripped, and pulled for the feeling of his hard cock against her soft belly was so irresistible. This was delicious, a moment of peace which was anything but still. There was movement and heat, a friction in two bodies that, frustratingly, were still clothed. Their hands scrambled now, now tugging and pulling. Tom’s jeans began an urgent descent while Carmen’s skirt began to climb.</p><p>And then Tom’s iPhone, which he’d set on a bedside table but forgotten to silence.</p><p>They scrambled for it, laughing through their kisses, kissing necks and jaws and ears, but of course in the flailing they managed to simultaneously answer the call, enable the speakerphone option, and knock the phone to the floor.</p><p>“Yoo hoo! Tom? Hello! Tom? I can’t hear... are you there? It’s Zawe! Speak up — I’m looking for you, darling!”</p><p>
  <em> Damn. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three of us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zawe is ready to reignite her Betrayal romance with Tom.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I mean, I don't know if Tom and Zawe were really a thing before, during, or after Betrayal. I'm not sure I care, but it makes for a fun story, I think.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sudden shower had put a literal and figurative damper on things for Zawe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True, her plan to share a room with Tom, and thus renew their fling, eventually spin it into something more, had already been spoiled before the rain came in. She allowed that her “accidental” cancelling of his reservation was probably not the best idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she had the weekend to make it up to him. What was better than a wedding weekend to dress up and be pretty, to be charming and erudite, flirtatious and jolly. She’d seen the guest list for Magda and Jeremy’s wedding, and had gotten a quick look at the locals as she and Tom drove into town. There was no way Tom’s fancy could be taken by another woman as long as she was around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zawe hung up her frocks, then flipped through them. The striped one, with the floral ruffle on the hem — vaguely nautical but still fashionable. Perfect for makeup drinks with Tom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just needed to find him first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t in the lobby where she left him, or in the hotel bar. When she ventured out into the drive and found his car missing, she frowned (not too much, because wrinkles), spun on her heel to head back inside, and retrieve her phone to call him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was a curious thing, Tom sounding flustered and a bit annoyed, frankly, but Zawe simply breezed past it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you come down to the hotel bar for a drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About that...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zawe pouted. “Or have they not sorted your room out yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, they have,” Tom said. “But it’s off-site.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Off-site?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A cottage, in the village proper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that does sound rather charming.” Zawe immediately pictured herself and Tom curled by a roaring fire, the dog elsewhere and not annoying her. “Shall I come by? I do believe I have some making up to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” Tom sounded more annoyed than questioning, but Zawe didn’t seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the room kerfuffle,” she explained. “Is it far? I can come by with some wine if...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! No, it’s quite alright. We, that is, I am just settling in...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We?” Zawe sat up abruptly, knocking into her table and spilling a little of the lemon water she had ordered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of the hotel employees was kind enough to show me to the cottage. Directions and such.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” She took a deep breath. “And are </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> still there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” replied Tom. “We were about to get a drink in town. Care to join us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One two three four five six</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zawe counted to herself. She pasted on a fake smile, though nobody in the bar was paying attention to her to benefit from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” she replied, through gritted teeth. “Where shall I meet you?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Upon stepping into <a href="https://shipfowey.co.uk/menus/">The Ship Inn</a>, Zawe tried not to curl her lip in disgust at the smell of frying oil. Her fake smile reappeared as she searched for Tom, for she imagined that the few tourists and red-faced locals (fishermen, she guessed) nodded as she swept by. It was a relief to be in from the rain, which was lighter now. Her hair was frizzier because of the damp, though it was flattering. She had paired her long dress with a pair of wellies that made squelching sounds on the carpeted floor. Zawe thought about changing into the flats she had stashed in her handbag, but then she heard the telltale laughter she had been listening for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there he was, sitting on a leather couch tucked behind a long wooden table. Head thrown back, pint of ale in his right hand and his left clapped around the shoulder of the woman sitting at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zawe froze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>was this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman looked up from her glass of wine, smiled, and sat up. “Hello. You must be Zawe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zawe smoothed a piece of her hair behind her ear. She walked up to the table, made a funny little wave, and took a seat. “And you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman offered her hand. “Carmen DiGregorio. Everything okay with your room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zawe nodded. “It’s a lovely property.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen nodded. “I’ll tell my mom you said so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom handed Zawe a menu and grinned. “Carmen was just telling me about how the hotel is haunted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen smiled conspiratorially. “Only a little,” she explained. “A ghost. Likes to cause a little mischief whenever we have a wedding booked in for the weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t that hurt your business, though?” Zawe asked coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen shrugged. “We’re kind of famous for it. Like, the lights may go out, but then we just get out the candles, and nobody seems to mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That seems rather romantic, actually,” replied Zawe. She reached out, hoping to brush her fingers over Tom’s hand but instead was handed a menu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just ordered some starters,” Tom said cheerfully. “Do you like onion rings? Carmen swears by them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A vegan burger with a side of greens for Zawe, while Tom and Carmen split an order of mussels and a platter onion rings. As Zawe shoveled her salad into her mouth, she had to admit to herself that this was the best date she had ever been on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So how did she get rid of this Carmen person and take her place?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh gosh, Tom,” Zawe brayed, sloshing her wine glass. “Remember that night I spent hiding at yours, after some fans tried to follow us home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Carmen looked at Zawe with concern. “Are they all like that? The fans, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom shook his head vigorously. “No, and I’m not sure they were actually following us, Zawe.” He turned to Carmen. “I was signing autographs, and one of the girls in line asked for directions to Camden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>sworn</span>
  </em>
  <span> I saw them at the chippie around the corner when Faisal dropped us home,” Zawe insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom shrugged. “Camden’s pretty popular, especially with the young people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen chuckled. “Young people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “Forget I said that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you so very old?” Carmen asked with mock concern. “Should I get you some digestives and a cup of tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Tom chuckled. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How old are you?” Carmen asked. “I’m 40.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just turned 38 in February,” Tom confessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m 34,” Zawe volunteered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you excited to be turning 35?” Carmen asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just an age.” Zawe was feeling defensive, and sounded like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen nodded. “Of course it is. Not a big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thirty five,” Tom said. “An age I’d rather not relive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Was it so awful?” Carmen looked sympathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Do you not know?” Zawe sat up, leaning across the table to Carmen. “That was the summer Tom was in this, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>relationship</span>
  </em>
  <span> with...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, we don’t have to get into that now...” Tom murmured. “If it’s all the same to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Zawe had already said her name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> name. Carmen sat blinking, taking in what Zawe was able to blurt out before Tom cut her off with a sharp glance. When Zawe sat back and took another sip of her wine, Carmen turned to Tom, took a breath, and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all make mistakes,” Carmen said with a shrug. “A toast, I say. To...” She paused. “Who are your friends who are getting married?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magda and Jeremy,” Zawe said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To Magda and Jeremy, the happy couple,” Carmen proposed, her glass lifted. “And happy couples everywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right, Tom,” Zawe slurred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, are you okay, Zawe?” Tom asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By way of reply, Zawe grinned then let her head fall forward onto the table (her face missing her plate by mere inches).</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>If Zawe’s plan was to ingratiate herself with Tom so that she’d get an invitation to spend the night with him at his cottage, she was only partially successful. For she had gotten drunk, and now Tom and Carmen slowly walked her back to the cottage. She was a happy sort of drunk, exclaiming over how adorable the accommodation was and how striking the view of the village and the water was, and wasn’t Tom’s bed awfully cosy. She was dead to the world, snoring in fact, by the time Carmen was able to wrestle off her boots and fold her carefully under the bedclothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found Tom, not in his living room on his side of the cottage, but in hers. He set out two hot toddies at the kitchen table, smiling when she joined him for a nightcap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you in the wedding party?” When Tom shook his head, Carmen took a contemplative sip. “Why’d you come down so early?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom shrugged. “I didn’t have anything to do in town. And I thought the dog would like the extra time on the beach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure to get you a map of the dog-friendly bits of the beaches, then.” Carmen smirked. “So what’s up with you and...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her? Tom pointed in the direction of the room where Zawe now slept. He shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know?” Carmen asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think she wants to...” Tom ran his fingers through his hair. “We had a little thing during the play and...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen waggled her eyebrows. “So what’s stopping you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s nice enough but...” Tom traced the rim of his mug with a fingertip. “Didn’t really go anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen nodded. “You don’t think coming down here with her might lead her on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not together now,” Tom explained. “And you know what she did with the room reservation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which tells me she thinks there might be a possibility that you might want to get back together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom huffed. “But it was so casual before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if she’s anything like me,” Carmen began to say, “The prospect of turning 35 whilst single and unmarried is rather a daunting one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” Tom asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t feel the same way when you were 35?” asked Carmen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did but as you found out I, erm, acted out rather differently,” Tom said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen scooted closer, leaned in until her nose was practically touching Tom’s. “And what did you learn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom closed the distance, kissing her gently but firmly on the mouth. He tasted just the drink he had made for them and, thankfully, not the mussels and onion rings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they sat back from the kiss, Tom and Carmen regarded each other with mutual satisfaction. They grinned, held hands, then got up as one and made their way upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen used the toilet first, peeing then washing her hands and face before ceding the bathroom to Tom. She checked her nightstand, making sure there was lube and a few condoms, then got into bed. It was only when Tom joined her, gently shutting the door behind him, that she realized she was still dressed. Tom was kind enough to point it out to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shuddup,” she muttered, grinning madly. She removed her striped top and flung it at his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom intercepted the garment, folding it and placing it on a wooden chair just next to her bureau. He paused, took a breath, then began to unbutton his own blue shirt. Carmen waited until he had taken it off to begin wiggling out of her skirt. Tom took her skirt and his own pair of jeans, and added them to the smile pile of clothing on the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was in bed next to her in a flash, shivering a little in a pair of gray boxer shorts. Carmen pointed out that his shorts matched the color of her own knickers and bra. Tom nodded, then grabbed her left hand with his right. She squeezed his hand, then pulled it, using the momentum to sit and straddle him at the hips. Her belly jiggled a little and before she could cover it with her hands, Tom repositioned his own hands to cover her hips. He stroked the sides of her belly with his thumbs and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Carmen murmured back. She slid one of her thumbs under her bra strap and let it snap back into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom nodded and took a breath as he watched Carmen’s arms bend back so she could undo the clasp of her bra at the back. He watched her face as she removed it, slid his hands up to hold her breasts. Her nipples were erect, maybe from the chill of the air and maybe from the anticipation. She gasped when he brushed his thumbs over them. Tom couldn’t resist smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere,” he whispered, and welcomed Carmen into a prone position on top of him. He couldn’t help pressing his lips to the top of her head when it came to rest just under his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He liked her. He liked the way her body felt, the weight of her flesh as it pressed into his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He liked her. He liked the easy way she laughed and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He liked her. He liked how quickly she welcomed him, and made it plain how much she liked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He liked how she was quick to help Zawe into bed, without a trace of malice or discomfort at Zawe’s overtures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lifted her head, met Tom’s gaze, and kissed him. And as she kissed him, she planted her hands on either side of his head, lifting herself lightly so she could shift. He felt the slick heat of her sex, just for a moment, against his thigh. He reached for her, one hand gripping her hip while the other traced down her belly to her mound. She arched her back, gasping with pleasure when he found her clit with his thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the dark he watched her face, focused on the small O of her mouth, as he stroked the small bud. Faster and faster, his fingers tracing along the slit. Carmen breathed faster and harder, and her eyes glittered in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The-, there,” she rasped. “Condoms. In the nightstand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom fumbled with his free hand, quickly locating a packet but giving it over to Carmen to unwrap. He found delight in the look of glee on her face as she ripped it open. Taking him in hand, she licked her lips before unrolling the rubber onto his cock. She gave him a slow but firm stroke, laughing softly when he groaned at her touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So much for foreplay,” she murmured, and eased herself down. Once seated, she took a breath which turned into a gentle laugh. He liked the sound of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom continued to toy with her clit, fingering her even as she covered his hand with hers. Carmen rocked, bucking occasionally when he brushed her just so. He wanted to take her breasts into his mouth so he did, sitting up to hold her in his arms so he could reach them. He bit gently at her nipples, then sucked at them to soothe the ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed like this, clasped and swaying, the only sound being their breathing and the squeaking of her bed frame. Tom licked at a thin film of perspiration on Carmen’s chest, then up to her shoulders and her neck. She tasted of salt, or rather like saltwater. The scent that lingered in her hair. He found the curve of her neck rather delicious, and the scent of her skin made him dizzy. And all at once Tom wanted her beneath him, trapped and entirely at his mercy. All the better to devour her, so he rolled them over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now on her back, Carmen was able to spread her legs wider. She let Tom fall upon her, all the easier to take him in her arms and kiss him as his hips began to pump. Faster, then harder. She reached between them, rubbing her clit in time with his strokes, and his panting breaths. And Tom was so ardent, the way he kept his eyes open and on her face even as he got closer and closer to coming. His movements became rougher and harder, hips moving erratically. Carmen wrapped her legs around him, and held on. Tom was able to get in closer, lift and tilt her hips so he could reach between them. He found her clit touched, her, circling and stroking while she began to whimper and whine. He was filling her so well, hitting her inside and when he touched that bud she writhed. Tom held on, pounding until he felt her tighten around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh... oh... oh my god,” Carmen moaned, and she began to come. Tom felt her, the pulsing of her pussy on his dick, and for a moment he thought he might faint even as he began to come. His hips twitched and he groaned, letting them move as his orgasm overtook him. Tom collapsed, and fell forward so his head rested on the pillow next to Carmen’s. She was still shuddering, her climax sending sparks through her body, so he was tender. He waited until he could feel her loosen, then pressed soft damp kisses to her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carmen turned to face him, and pressed kisses to his cheek in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That...” she began to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was nice,” Tom said, finishing the thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she breathed. “Not bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad?” Tom asked, grinning against her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You spending the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to kick me out of your bed after...?” Tom pretended to be hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Making you come so hard you saw stars?” Carmen suggested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not stars,” Tom confessed. “But close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph,” Carmen said. “Guess I’ll have to do better next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom nodded. “Fair’s fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went to the bathroom again, cleaning up quickly. Carmen dashed next door to check on Zawe, leaving the woman a glass of water and two paracetamols in case she got up. When she returned to her bedroom, she found Tom snuggled in bed waiting for her. Bobby was curled up on the floor, and when she joined them Carmen quickly fell asleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Fowey Hall Hotel is real, though I've set it in a fictional village of a different name which we will get to explore in later chapters. The village itself will be more like Penzance and St. Ives, both of which I have actually visited. I hope to visit Fowey and Polruan someday when the pandemic is contained.</p><p>The Everlane weekender bag is awesome which is why I linked to it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>